A Different Kind of Quiet
by Neverland's Kitsune X
Summary: She didn't choose this. But she didn't regret what she had given up for him. Silence wasn't too bad, and the doctor said it was possible for her to recover if she set her mind to it. It's a good thing the boy she saved, Echizen Ryoma, is always there for her. She'll wait for him, and he'll notice her. It's a silent promise. Rated T for swearing -Undecided pairings -Mentions of Rape
1. Watchful Eyes, Melodies, & Questions

It was the Kanto Regionals. Seigaku vs Fudomine. Ryoma Echizen against Shinji Ibu. It was now, that it happened.

All of it in twelve seconds.

The girl behind the fence counted.

1 mississippi.

2 mississippi.

3 mississippi.

And Ryoma's arm had frozen.

He still swung, turning his entire body.

4 mississippi.

5 mississippi.

The numb hand couldn't hold on tightly enough.

6 mississippi.

The racket flew away towards the net post.

7 mississippi.

8 mississippi.

The racket broke in half.

One end, came flying back.

Broken and shattered end first.

9 mississippi.

10 mississippi.

. . .

11... mississippi.

And the blood kept on dripping.

And the voices kept on screaming.

And the girl with the long pigtails and stutter kept on running. Towards the court. Where a boy with golden hazel eyes and a bloody face knelt.

And…

12 mississippi.

The girl with the two Ponta cans in hand… did nothing. She did nothing. No shout of encouragement. No screaming for an ambulance. No other sound than a slight scratching noise as she scuffed her shoe across the ground.

Instead… she just watched. And waited. She would always wait. She would always wait for him.

* * *

He had won. The boy with the green tinted black hair and golden hazel, cat-like eyes.

She didn't cheer. She couldn't anyways, and saw no need to.

The two teams bowed to each other at the net in… it took about 24 seconds.

She already had expected him to win.

She was still waiting. And... he noticed. But of course he did. He always noticed. He always did. He always would notice her.

"Ooh, Ponta. Did they have any grape left?" Was the first thing he said as he walked towards the girl. No hello was even needed.

The girl smiled slightly as she nodded, one bob of her head.

"Thanks." Ryoma popped the lid of the can open as he took a swig of the artificially flavored soda.

The girl nodded again before opening her own can, orange flavored, and taking a sip of the fizzy liquid.

"Oi, Echizen, who is this?" Momoshiro came up behind Ryoma, his eyes wide and curiously staring at the girl who merely took another drink from her can.

". . ." Of course the girl didn't say anything though.

"Saaa… Echizen-kun, Sumire-chan wants to bring you to the hospital now." Shusuke popped up from nowhere.

"Ah, you want to come along?" Ryoma turned to the girl who simply shrugged.

The girl tilted her head before reaching out her hand that held her Ponta. Pressing it against Ryoma's bandaged eyes, Ryoma simply blinked.

"No, it doesn't hurt." He said, taking another sip.

". . ." The girl raised an eyebrow at him before pressing down harder, ignoring Momoshiro's protests.

"No, I'm fine. You can get off me now." Ryoma sighed and reached a hand up to gently remove her hand from his face.

The girl shrugged, then nodded. Momoshiro and Shusuke were at a lost of what she meant by that. Ryoma however, understood.

"Come on then, before the fangirls arrive." Ryoma took hold of her hand and led her away to where the coach was.

* * *

How I ended up in a sushi restaurant after Ryoma's check-up was still a mystery to me. I sat at the counter, another boy beside me. He had bittersweet coffee brown eyes hidden behind wire-framed glasses and honey-brown hair with the parting on his left side that made it look all windswept.

As the ever faithful person he was, Ryoma would glance at me every… about 10 seconds or so.

I sighed quietly. Took another sip of my jasmine tea. Counted.

He glanced at me again.

Repeat.

". . ." I'm not sure what exactly was said, but from what I could tell, the owner of the shop and someone's father had mistaken the boy next to me for an adult and offered him sake.

I smirked. How amusing. Oh… wait for it… Ryoma looked at me again. And the red-head took one of his sushi's as he did so. Now he's pissed off.

". . ." I stood silently, waving to get Ryoma's attention.

He looked. He noticed. He noticed me. He always did.

". . ." I pointed out the door and made a person walking kind of thing with two of my fingers.

He nodded. "Be back by midnight. Use the window." He said plainly.

I tilted my head and nodded. Someone else, a woman, popped up. She had a camera.

"Let's take a picture everybody!" She cheered.

I stood back. I'm not a part of this team. I can't even cheer for this team. Useless little ole' me.

"A-Aaaah!" A girl with long pigtails screamed as she was pushed into Ryoma, just as the camera's shutters clicked, capturing the moment forever.

My smirk grew wider as I saw where their mouths landed, on each other's cheeks. I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively at Ryoma who was wiping off his lips and cheek. He glared at me with those half-lidded eyes.

"Sit." He said, motioning me over to him. I rolled my eyes. Shook my head. I don't fit in.

"Sit." He repeated. I looked away nonchalantly on purpose to make him angry.

". . ." Closing my eyes, I could hear the silence even louder than before.

I looked back to Ryoma. He was standing up now. Walking over to me. Holding out his hand. His eye, sharp as ever yet holding some sort of softness, promised only one picture. His eye-patch…

I tapped his eye-patch lightly. He looked at me confused.

"It doesn't hurt anymore." He said, not understanding what i meant.

I shook my head and mimicked a bird on my shoulder, also curving my other hand into a 'C' shape. His eyes lit up.

"I look like a pirate?" He asked, sounding quite amused.

I nodded. He smirked. His hand was still hovering in mid-air.

I took it.

He pulled me back to his seat, the other girl was still there, shy and blushing and her friend was fangirling behind her, occasionally glaring at me.

What did I do?

"Alright everyone, put more emotion into this picture!" The woman with the camera cheered.

It took only three seconds.

1 mississippi.

The camera was brought up.

Smile were plastered on.

2 mississippi.

Ryoma and I turned at the same time, towards each other.

His bandaged eye was hidden from the camera.

My hand reached around his shoulders to flash a peace sign.

His lips curved into a smile.

My lips smirked, pressed against his cheek.

3 mississippi.

A flash of white.

I think I kept my eyes open. I'm not sure.

Ryoma rolled his eyes when his fangirl started screaming. About me. At me. Then he stiffened up and froze when the shouting got a bit... into the deep territory. Forbidden topics.

"She hasn't said a single word since we've met her! She's such a rude person and-"

"Shut. Up." Ryoma growled. This is such a turn of events.

I moved to crouch in front of Ryoma. I patted his cheek gently. His glare turned to me, then softened.

". . ." I smiled. That was all I did. Smile.

He smirked and closed his eyes, sighing tiredly.

"Of course. You don't really care now, do you? You never do worry about many others. Suppose I'm lucky, ne?" He asked, voice relaxing as he opened his eyes again.

I shrugged, smile slipping into a smirk. I stood, he followed, we stared at each other.

". . ." He really shouldn't expect me to care. Hopefully, now he didn't.

"Nothing to say?" It was now his turn to taunt me and raise an eyebrow, but not for jealous reasons. For me as well, he was doing this.

I shrugged. Then shook my head. Nope.

He sighed. "See you later than. Remember, midnight. 12:00. Not past 2 like last time."

I shrugged, then picked up my case and left. A few seconds later and I heard footsteps following me. I paused, and turned. Two of them. The one with the half-shaved head and two locks of hair standing inwards on his forehead and the other was the one I had sat next to for the majority of the time.

"Oh, are you going home as well?" The one with the black hair asked in a kind tone.

I nodded, eyes still watching them carefully.

"I'm Oishi Shuichiro, and this is Tezuka Kunimitsu. What's your name?" He asked, voice still caring.

I blinked. I turned my torso to the side as I unstrapped a notepad from my belt. The pencil I tied to the connecting rings was getting dull, I'd need to sharpen it again soon.

Flipped to page 3. Handed them the notepad. The one with honey-brown hair, Tezuka, took it. He held it gently in his hand as they both read what it said on the page.

'Hello, I hope I haven't appeared too rude to you. My name is Aria Suzume, and I am mute. I am a freshman in junior high. Nice to meet you.'

Tezuka blinked, then handed it back to me with a nod, showing he understood. I'm glad for that. Oishi's eyes were wide with worry.

"Are you alright? What happened? Who else kno-" I turned away from him and started walking again. So he's the curious type, apparently.

"W-Wait! Hold on, where are you goin-" Oishi's voice was cut off, and for certain, not by mine.

"Oishi, I believe you are making her uncomfortable with your questions." I heard from Tezuka. "Am I correct Aria-san?"

I stopped again and turned. Nodding to Tezuka, and shot a pointed look at Oishi.

". . ." I tilted my head as I looked at Tezuka. He looked back. Oishi sweat-dropped at us two silent beings.

I scribbled something on my notepad quickly, then held it up. Tezuka's eyes widened as he read it.

'Is your left elbow hurt by any chance?'

His gaze cut into mine.

"How did you know?" He asked in a quiet tone, but not soft at all. Sharp and commanding.

I shrugged nonchalantly. So be it if he's pissed off at me now. I can't validly answer. Taking out my pencil, I wrote another word below the question. It's up to him if he believes it or not.

'Instinct'

Obviously, he didn't believe me.

Who would? The mute girl had nothing to say in defense, might as well be admitting she's guilty. The blind man cannot see, might as well say he was the witness. The deaf boy cannot hear, might as well say he eavesdropped.

I sighed and turned away. Footsteps followed. I had nothing to say. I had nothing I could say. We arrived at an intersection. Oishi left, waving at us.

I waved back.

Now it was two. Tezuka walked a step behind me. It would be quite awkward if we were side by side. A park came into view, lit up by street lamps.

My stop.

I turned and walked up the stone steps. I turned to wave goodbye, trying to be polite, and was confused at what I saw. Which was a confused boy. Well, he wasn't outright expressing it, but his eyes were a bit more narrowed and his eyebrows drawn closer.

"Aria-san, were you not going home?" He asked in a quiet tone.

". . ." I scratched something out and handed off my notepad to him.

'What are you still doing here? And no, I'll go home later. Much later.'

"... My intentions were to bring you home safely. It isn't such a good idea for a young girl to be outside this late by herself." He explained, handing me back my notepad.

I looked at him with owlish eyes. He.. was worried? About me? I couldn't stop the smile that curled my lips as I wrote out a response.

'I'll be fine, but thank you for your concern. I always practice at night anyways, and I'm used to walking around alone. You can leave now if you wish.'

"Practice?" His voice had a slight lilt in it, all that made it a question.

I nodded excitedly and pulled out my violin from its case. The case was now perched on a bench. After making sure my bow had been greased with the proper amount of rosin, I lowered it to the strings.

Counted out three seconds.

1 mississippi…

2 mississippi…

3 mississippi…

And played. Ayano's Theory of Happiness. I used it as my main warm-up song and cool down song. It was so complex in the melody and noises. Reach my fingers just a bit longer to catch the fret, slide my bow across more slowly to draw out the emotional notes, then speed it up as a representation of a voice.

There's a story in every song, and every song should have a story in it.

That's what I believe in. And despite the fact this was a quite complicated song, I had played it for long enough to be able to go on autopilot if I wished.

A difficult thing indeed. One mistake is all it takes for me to ruin the song. One slip of the fingers to press the wrong fret, one messed up pull of the bow as it leans into another string, not pressing down long enough for the note to resonate fully.

With one last draw of the bow, the last note of the beautiful melody resounded into the night silence.

I had closed my eyes for the performance, and as they now opened, I was greeted by the sight of Tezuka applauding lightly.

"That was very well played Aria-san." He complimented.

I smiled at him, then placed my violin and bow back in his (I've named my violin. The bow is a part of him.) case to write out a message to Tezuka. Handing him the notepad, I shifted to my other foot.

'Please just call me Suzume.'

"Ah," Tezuka's voice paused as I was given back my notepad. "Suzume-san then." He finished.

I smiled and nodded once. I lifted out my instrument once more. Placing it on my shoulder, chin against the chin strap, I began a slower song.

Saltwater Room.

It was such a sweet song, the story in sweet callings and questions and metaphors. This was what I loved, songs and stories mixing and told in a beautiful melody and by harmonious voices.

How ironic I don't have much of a voice anymore though.

I used to. Used to. I used to scream and shout and whisper and talk. But what I did the most…

I sighed as the last note left my violin and retreated away, only remembered in faint memories. I'll tell this story again soon enough though, no need to feel sad.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" He asked, voice quiet yet loud in the silence around us.

I tilted my head. Mouthing one word, I smiled.

'Yes.'

Just to make sure, I nodded my head as well. Lip-reading is a dead art and skill. Tezuka nodded as well and continued on his way.

A smirk made its merry way onto my lips. Raising my bow, I began another song, one I'm sure Tezuka would know of as he walked away.

And so as the stoic male walked away in the night, down the street, I serenaded him with the melody of Canon D in major. Or otherwise known as 'Here Comes the Bride'.

The wedding song.

I half-expected him to turn and glare at me, or at least give me a look.

He didn't.

However, he did falter mid-step before his shoulders stiffened up and he walked away with a sort of hunch to his back.

How cute.

* * *

I was going to wear shorts. They were most likely against the rules. I don't care, I was not going to only wear that green skirt, low and hanging above my knees.

I'd like to keep what little dignity and innocence I have left.

And I… *cough* *cough* … _lost_ the pink ribbon. Terrible planning on my part to leave it in the same room with Karupin, the darling he is with his sharp claws and teeth and fondness of ribbons. I would now have on a red tie instead. Quite charming, I must say. Elegant, sophisticated…

… I'm still wearing my dirty, scuffed up tennis sneakers...

… My clothes are so wrinkled that Iron Man must be very angry at me and internally screaming...

… Ah wells, first day at Seigaku, first impressions, I'm just going to stay in the shadows. And with Ryoma.

I sighed as I looked at the uniform laying innocently on the bed once again. Ryoma's head popped up from behind the shared bedroom door.

"Oi, ready to take a shower now?" He asked.

I nodded and followed him into the bathroom with the uniform in hand. After placing it to the side, I stripped and stepped into the drizzling warm water, my skin adjusting to the temperature quickly. Ryoma soon followed.

"Pass the soap." He said.

I gave the slippery bar to him after I finished using it, and then pointed to the shampoo and conditioner bottle on his side. He nodded, squeezed some of it into his hand, and helped me rub it through my hair. I relaxed as his fingers occasionally scratched my scalp.

We finished at the same time, then stepped out. He passed me my towel as I gave him his. My hair was ruffled up by him as I wiped down my body.

"Let's not be late today." He spoke in a softer voice, or was it just the towel I had thrown over his head?

". . ." I nodded and adjusted the tie on myself.

He buttoned up his shirt and uniform jacket, then waited for me to pull on my knee length shorts and thigh high socks underneath the skirt. My entire legs were covered up by one thing or another. Just the way I prefered.

He had a grape Ponta in hand and also my sweetened orange juice. I had two pieces of toast, both slathered with a thick layer of either grape jam, or **Nutella** , specially ordered from somewhere I can't be bother to remember by Nanako.

I had the **Nutella**. Taking another bite of the crisp bread, I smiled dreamily as I tasted the sweet chocolate flavor. Ryoma and I switched our food, now I held my chocolate toast and orange juice and he had his grape Ponta and jam toast.

We finished halfway to school. Ryoma was still complaining about it not being a Japanese breakfast. Honestly though, I'd eat anything edible. My taste buds are used to nearly everything, but favor sweet and spicy things more.

"Next time, we're going to wake up earlier to have an actually good breakfast." Ryoma grumbled, still fuming not so silently.

I rolled my eyes and smirked. He smirked as well, then walked a bit faster so he was beside me. We both knew it was a lie to say we would wake up earlier, seeing as we both cherished sleep, albeit, he did a bit more than me. Our fingers brushed against each other every now and then. Whether it was on purpose or not, I didn't know.

I didn't very much care either.

* * *

If asked, I would have said Seigaku seemed nice-

Whoops.

Meant, if asked, I would have _written_ Seigaku seemed nice. Right. Can't talk. Right.

I sat perched on a bench as Ryoma ran laps around the tennis courts because he was late. Eh, not my fault. It was the other guy's fault, the one who was running with him right now. Spiky black hair and violet eyes. They had bumped into each other as soon as we stepped foot inside the grounds, then proceeded to argue. Something about failing doubles and how they're not real men…? I walked ahead of Ryoma, and found the tennis courts by pure luck and chance.

I seem to always get lost in the right way.

I bowed out of politeness to the regulars gathered there, and for respect to Tezuka. He acknowledged me with a nod. I wrote out a quick question, then showed it to him.

'If I may watch the practices, where can I sit? Please and thanks.'

He directed me to a bench within the fence, right in direct view of the courts. I got the feeling it wasn't such a… It seemed more exclusive. That was it.

As the two males ran around the court, a woman came up to me. Her brown hair was tied back in a ponytail and she wore a pink jacket and gray slacks.

"So you're the girl Tezuka allowed to watch practice from inside the fence. You should know that it's quite an honor." She told me, an amused smile curving her lips.

I nodded and gazed boredly ahead as Ryoma passed by again.

"Ryuzaki Sumire, the coach." She held out her hand for me to shake. "What's your name?"

I took her hand, she had a firm grip, and lightly shook it up and down. Taking out my notepad, I felt her stare on me. I flipped to page 3, the same one I showed to Tezuka and Oishi first last night.

'Hello, I hope I haven't appeared too rude to you. My name is Aria Suzume, and I am mute. I am a freshman in junior high. Nice to meet you.'

Her eyes widened and her eyebrows rose as she read it. She was still staring and holding the notepad. I counted out 30 seconds before Ryoma came by.

"Where's my towel?" He asked first.

Sumire seemed to snap out of whatever trance she was in. "Echizen Ryoma, respect your elders and do not speak that way to me-"

"Oh, sorry, I was asking Suzume. Hey, why does she have your notepad?" Ryoma pried away Sumire's fingers from the book and glanced at the words on the page.

"Oh, and she doesn't like it when someone she didn't tell herself knows about her quietness, so please don't spread it." Ryoma cautioned Sumire as he handed me back my notepad.

I motioned for Ryoma to lean down. He sat on the bench next to me as I wrapped his towel around his neck and passed him his water bottle. He took a long drink. I played with his cap, twirling it around in my hands.

"Thanks. We'll get your schedule from the office later, 'kay?" Ryoma stood back up, placing his stuff next to me again.

I nodded and tilted my head as a question came to mind.

'Lunch?' I mouthed.

Ryoma furrowed his eyebrows together. "Think you can get to the roof?"

I hesitantly nodded.

"Follow a regular if you can't find the stairs. You should be in at least one of their classes." Ryoma told me.

'Who?' I mouthed. Ryoma blinked, realizing I didn't know.

"So, there's the captain over there," He pointed to Tezuka who was making someone run more laps. "Vice-captain there." He moved his finger to the direction of Oishi. "And the one with red-hair, the one I ran laps with, the one with a bandanna, that guy who's smiling all the time and doesn't show his eyes, the one who's shouting in really bad English, and that one's not a regular, he's more of a part-time manager but you can follow the one with the glasses too."

"You can return to practice now Ryoma, and I'll properly introduce her to the regulars." Sumire told Ryoma, waving him off to rally with red-head and bandaged cheek guy.

"Alright, I'm guessing you already know Tezuka seeing as he let you sit here?" Sumire took the seat beside me.

'Met him yesterday. Oishi too.'

"Well, the one who's rallying with Ryoma right now is Eiji Kikumaru, the one who smiling as Ryoma described is Fuji Shusuke, and he's playing against Kawamura Takashi right now. Momoshiro Takeshi is the one with purple eyes and was running laps earlier, and the one he's arguing with right now is Kaidoh Kaoru- Hold on, Kaidoh, Momoshiro, 15 laps now!" Sumire shouted at the end, making me lean a bit away from her.

She sighed, then continued. "And the last one is our part-time manager, Inui Sadaharu. He's the other one with glasses and spiky black hair."

I nodded in gratitude, then returned to watching the practice. Mainly Ryoma though. And Tezuka. They were rallying now, Eiji was taking a water break, and even though it wasn't supposed to be serious, it was so captivating as the yellow tennis ball flew over the net in arches and ducks.

I missed being on the court.

Nobody seemed to take a girl seriously whenever she stepped onto the green painted ground. Even less if she was… _disabled_.

But I still played. Only against a choice few though, Ryoma being one of them. I beat him. Quite fun, might I add. I didn't care much for it though. 'It' being what Ryoma loved.

Competitions and judges. I played for the sheer joy of it. Nothing else. I hope Ryoma will too one day.

That will be the day he unlocks it.

Muga no Kyochi.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 **This was recently edited, like a day after being posted, and I'd like to thank ColdHeart1206 for the advice of not making Tezuka _too_ friendly with Suzume so soon. So no more Suzume- _chan_.**


	2. Short Day, Hospital, & 1000 Paper Cranes

". . ." I stayed silent. Just like always. No need to talk.

More like, no _chance_ to talk, no motivation to speak, and… Well… I can't force myself to. The doctor said I could try, but it would be best if I let it come back by itself so my voice isn't strained.

'So, I just follow you?' Read my notepad as I showed it to Tezuka.

He nodded and we started up the stairs. Apparently I'm in third-year classes. Yippee. Not. Ryoma won't be next to me, but I suppose Tezuka isn't too bad.

"... Suzume-san, if you don't mind me asking, how do you plan to get through classes with your…" Tezuka trailed off. He must not know how to put my condition in lighter words.

I began writing out a response. The faint scratching of my pencil against paper was all that was heard. I ripped off the single sheet of paper and handed it to him when I finished.

'The staff and principal have been informed of my conditions, and I won't be called on to answer questions aloud in class. Also, in case you were curious, I was not born mute. I have a chance of recovering my voice someday if it is what I truly wish.'

". . . Is it what you really want?" Tezuka folded up the paper and put it in his pocket.

I sighed through my nose, tilting my head in thought. I scratched out a response, turning the notepad towards him.

'I don't know. Ryoma understands me even without me having to write out everything, I'm decent in sign language now, and the notepad is a big help. I really don't know.'

"Ah," Tezuka seemed to be thinking for a moment. "In the end, I suppose it is your choice, and you shouldn't be influenced by anyone else's opinion."

I blinked and smiled, nodding at him. At least he wasn't going to prod me on to make a choice.

He's a really nice guy.

* * *

The teacher only nodded at me and directed me to a seat when I walked in. I'm glad for that, no introductions, no need to act like an arrogant a**hole. That's what I was planning to do, pretend I was too 'high up' to pay attention to 'commoners'.

I had too much pride to simply write upon the blackboard I was mute. And too 'smart'.

Tezuka was my seat partner, and I am so glad for that. I wouldn't have to ignore someone who's done nothing wrong. And without the teacher announcing my presence, I doubt anyone else even knows I'm here.

"Why don't you want the others to know of your condition?" Tezuka asked softly, his voice quiet so as to not attract attention as the teacher rambled on about something.

I took out my notebook and turned to a new page.

'Because I don't trust easily. About half the class, not including you, are boys whom I've never met before. A mute girl can't scream.'

I left the last part for him to interpret himself. I don't think he understood. His eyebrows furrowed together just the slightest. I sighed through my nose quietly and turned to look out the window.

Leaves were slowly drifting down in the breeze. A picturistic moment.

I can't tell him. Only Ryoma knows what happened to me. And the other person of course. Perhaps he has spread it to his friends? Do they know of the secret I keep as well?

Maybe more than us three know of the scars upon my wrist from that night, hidden beneath a wristband? When the street lamps weren't enough to light the way, when Ryoma and I were too weak, when I decided to be strong? Too strong. The price I paid… I might speak again, if for nothing else then to tell Ryoma is wasn't his fault.

I chose this.

I chose this silence.

I don't regret it.

. . .

Oh lord, I'm getting too deep in thought.

* * *

I'm _really_ glad Tezuka was in my class. That meant I followed him up to the roof for lunch. That also meant I was caught when I stumbled and tripped on the stairs.

So I shall rephrase that as, I'm _really_ damn glad I didn't bust my skull open because Tezuka was there to catch me.

We were walking up the stairs. I saw the door leading to where I presumed the rooftop was. I rushed towards it to reach Ryoma faster.

I tripped.

Tezuka, being behind me and all, caught me with one arm. And let me add... This is exactly why I wore shorts. So nobody *cough* even though he's a very nice guy and I'm sure he wouldn't do this on purpose, Tezuka, *cough* *cough* would get a panty shot.

'Thank you.' I mouthed gratefully, flashing him a quick smile as I gripped onto the railing and stood on my own two feet. Tezuka's arm still hovered a bit behind my back, as if worried I'd fall again.

"Ah, you're welcome Suzume-san." He started walking again, and this time, I stayed next to him.

* * *

I waved my hand, attracting his attention like always. His eyes brightened just a bit and he used his head to gesture to the spot beside him. Of course I accepted.

I smiled at Ryoma as he handed me my bento that I made him carry this morning. He rolled his eyes at me and continued eating his Japanese lunch. I unwrapped my own lunch and started munching as well.

Surprise, surprise, and color me… Surprised. Tezuka took a seat next to me.

"Saaa… Ryoma-kun, you never did introduce us to your female friend." A calm voice called out, growing louder as the person came closer. A body squeezed its way into the tiny space between me and Ryoma.

I blinked, once, twice, and counted out 4 seconds.

1 mississippi.

2 mississippi.

3 mississippi.

4 mississippi.

"Fuji-senpai, I was sitting next to her." Ryoma's strained voice said from the other side of… I believe this was Fuji Shusuke?

"Saaa… What's your name kouhai-chan? I'm Fuji Shusuke, one of Ryoma-kun's teammates." Shusuke turned to me, a smile on his face. So I was right about his name.

I blinked, then tilted my head in curiousity. He's strange, but a good kind of strange if that makes any sense. He seems nice, yet he'll go far to protect or help his friends. I'll take a chance and trust him I suppose.

I took out my notepad and handed it to him, having had turned the pages with words already written.

I was quite confused when his closed eyes snapped open and stared at me in surprise, and was that… amusement? And a bit of indignation? I mentally huffed, that was rude, I had decided to trust him after all-

"Saaa… This is a tad extreme kouhai-chan." He turned the notepad towards me and I realized my mistake.

I had turned it to page 4. Not page 3. Page 4 was for when I got... _very_ angry at someone.

'F*ck off a**hole, I am not in any mood for any of your sh*t. Does your a** get jealous of the sh*t that comes out of your mouth? Bet it does. Leave me the Hell alone and get a life loser.'

I smiled sheepishly and turned to the correct page, handing it to him as I mouth the word 'sorry'.

'Hello, I hope I haven't appeared too rude to you. My name is Aria Suzume, and I am mute. I am a freshman in junior high. Nice to meet you.'

"Saaa… Well why didn't you just say s- I mean, ah,-" I decided to save Shusuke from his mistake of asking why I didn't just 'say so'.

I took the notepad back, wrote something on a fresh page, handed it back.

'It's alright, though, if you wouldn't mind, please keep this to yourself. I'd rather not be pitied by others, or taken advantage of. A mute girl can't scream.'

He got it. He got my reference. He understood it, because the next thing I knew, he was leaning in close to me, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, bright cerulean eyes dancing with some sort of intensity staring into my own orbs.

"Saaa… Alright then Aria-chan." He murmured as his eyes seemed to search mine for something.

I closed my eyes as I inhaled. Opened them when I let go of the breath. I wrote out something else.

'Call me Suzume, senpai.'

He smiled. "Saaa… Let's eat before we must go back to classes, ne Suzume-chan?"

I nodded and continued with my meal, along with ignoring Ryoma's indignant huff when I ignored him. A smirk curled on my lips, then turned into a smile as Ryoma challenged Shusuke to a match later.

How… cute of him.

* * *

It hurts…

Owwwwwwwwwwwwww.

"... Are you still alive?" A voice drifted down to me.

". . ." Does Ryoma really expect me to answer. Does he. Does. He. I am the mute girl. Mute. Maybe I should get him a dictionary for a birthday/Christmas gift...

I slowly opened my eyes to the fluorescent lights overhead, along with… 5 shadowy heads. Okay, so one of them is Ryoma, another is… I believe Shusuke? He's the only one I know who would smile after an accident, even if it seems a bit strained and empty. Okay, and the dude with fluffy, feathery hair is…. Well, he's also got glasses, so Tezuka I suppose.

Now who are the two girls?

And what's with that annoying voice that won't stop droning on about 'Ryoma-sama'?

I looked around me and found my notepad to the side. After making sure my pencil was still usable, I wrote out a message to Ryoma and ripped off the page, handing it to him.

'Who the f*ck is talking about you? The 'Oh dear Ryoma-sama, save me please!' is very disturbing. Please make it stop, my ears hurt. And what happened? Why was I on the floor?'

"... She bumped into you," Ryoma vaguely nodded his head in the girl with ponytails direction. "And you fell. You alright? Okaa-san would be pretty angry if you got hurt on your first day."

I rolled my eyes and snatched my notepad back. I shrugged in response to his question and slowly stood up.

Ow. Ow. Ow.

My leg feels like it's been run over. I'm going to die… How am I supposed to walk, or run now? And I'm pretty sure I have a P.E class later…

"Are you sure you're alright?" Ryoma raised an eyebrow at me.

I walked away, a few steps later and I was inside a class, not looking back. I'd need to sit down soon, but I don't think my injuries are too bad. It just feels like a bruised knee and perhaps a few cuts. Perhaps none, I don't think I fell upon anything sharp enough to pierce skin… And I'm sure that the scar's been closed, right? My legs feel sore and raw, I dearly hope this is the right class. Collapsing in a desk near a window, I shuddered and let out a breath.

"Saaa… Suzume-chan, does your leg hurt?" Shusuke popped up in front of me, scaring the living daylights out of me as well.

". . ." I blinked once, twice, and counted out 2 seconds.

1 mississippi.

2 mississippi.

And shook my head. Nope. Not at all. Besides, he has nothing to call me out on. A mute girl can't lie if she never told the truth in the first place.

I turned to face the front as a teacher walked in.

. . .

Wrong class. According to that sensei anyways. I stood up and left, looking for class 3- Oh, there it is. Right across the hall too. I slid into a seat next to Tezuka just before the teacher came in. She nodded at me, and no introductions once again. Phew.

This is getting quite boring… I've already learned this stuff… So it's only a review? Good, at least I know things won't be too easy this year…

Everything seems so fuzzy…

I'm… standing up?

Why is Tezuka holding my arm?

"Suzume-san, the infirmary is this way." His voice was tinged with worry as he led me away.

All I could think of at the moment was, damnit, now everybody in the class has seen me.

* * *

I sat at the edge of a scratchy white cot. With a warmth upon my back, it wasn't long until I figured it out. The stitches burst. Or is it 'unraveled'? Either way, what a bother…

"Suzume-san, what happened-" Before he, Tezuka, finished, I lay a piece of paper with my words on the bed, then proceeded onto standing up and searching for bandages, wide ones.

'My back has a large scar upon it. The stitches came loose, so i started bleeding. You don't have to stay, please leave in fact. I'm going to bandage myself up and go to a hospital.'

"... Are you sure you don't need any help Suzume-san?" Tezuka must not understand. He is so… goddamned _oblivious_ and _innocent_. Or maybe stupid is a better word? I smirked as I scratched out a few more words on the paper.

'If I'm going to bandage my back, it would help if I took my shirt off.'

He left. And I do believe he was just the tiniest bit flustered, or perhaps I had only imagined that slight hunch to his shoulders?

How… cute.

* * *

"Yes, this is..."

"... Hospital… Yes Ma'am..."

"-Sending someone there right…"

"... Is he breathing? Alright-"

"Keep pressure on the-"

"How bad is the wound…"

"Ambulance arriving shortly, please-"

"Stay calm sir, we are-"

The voices droned on and on, so loudly that I, the young mute girl, (surprise, not a surprise) had trouble catching attention. After a receptionist finally got off the phone and saw me, I had already counted out 450 seconds. 7 minutes and 30 seconds.

Once my situation had been written down on a paper, showed to the receptionist, and exchanged for a room number upon where a doctor would see me soon, I, with only my silence and my violin case which I had picked up from a repair shop earlier as a string had snapped yesterday, walked up many flights of stairs, adding onto all the walking I had done as I had taken the train down to Kanagawa. I knew better than to make anybody at the other hospital, although closer to Seigaku, worry about me. A car accident with numerous victims involved had occurred recently, and as it was closer to Tokyo Hospital, more patients were being rushed in there.

The mute girl wasn't important.

But I do believe I've scared, or at least frightened a few by coming here. Apparently my scar did start bleeding very badly, and my bandages aren't much of a help. Now I have a large red stain upon my pastel colored uniform, very easy to see.

As I arrived on the third floor, I began to question myself, but mainly my abilities for reading. Was this chicken scratch a 2 or a 3…? And does this say 'B' or 'D'-

Screaming. Somebody's screaming. It's so loud and… sad. Angry and frustrated, but there's something different about it that separates it from my last scream.

I was far more scared.

Maybe… this note says 3-B… And I need to enter that room right in front of me, from where a nurse has come out, emotions awash on her face, the emotions being pity and slight fear and indignation as the screaming won't stop behind her.

How… curious...

* * *

Being diagnosed with a disease that kept him away from stepping a foot onto a tennis court was not a pleasant experience.

Well, at least, according to the patient in room 3-B.

Others may not have felt _as_ devastated as him, but not many others would be playing tennis. This patient is. Or was. The doctors hadn't told him of any possible cures. Yet. Yet, because he had to keep hope and faith and stop screaming into the hospital blanket he pulled up to his face.

He felt drained of emotions as he looked up. A calm, silent room greeted him with a figure sitting on a chair, just like always-

Wait, what?

The 'figure' turned out to be a girl appearing several years younger than him. A bored and blank and peaceful expression lay on her face, although her eyes shone with curiosity and… was that amusement?

"Who are you?" He asked first, eyes wary.

". . ." The girl did not respond, or make any movement other than blink.

"You shouldn't be in here." He warned.

". . ." The girl, once again, made no movement.

"You have 10 seconds to explain yourself-"

The girl moved, and that was enough for him to be quiet. She slid a violin case off her shoulder and unzipped the front pocket. A flat area of space, he had to wonder what she could have fit in there.

Paper.

Square sheets of paper, about a hand's width for both ways. A viridian green, an electric yellow, a dull crimson-brown, and a royal navy blue, quite close to the patient's hair color.

The girl seemed to hold them up to him as if asking him to choose. The patient found nothing wrong with humoring her. He chose the paper that reminded him of his own hair, the gorgeous blue.

The girl smiled, but not a single word left her lips. With a nod that the patient found to look as if she was approving him of something, the girl began to pull and tug corners of the paper to match. Diagonal both ways, than horizontal and vertical, than repeat the diagonal fold to make a little triangle.

The patient watched in mild interest as the girl created an origami crane. What surprised him, however, was when the girl placed said crane upon the bedside drawer. He was more used to human's selfishness, and this would be the first… 'gift', he supposed it was a present no matter how.. odd, he had received at the hospital.

"... Thank you, I suppose." He nodded at the girl who merely gave him a fleeting smile and returned the nod with one of her own.

". . ." The girl held up one finger, then shook her fist 4 times in the air.

"1 and four… zeroes?" He guessed.

The girl nodded.

"1 thousand." The patient confirmed.

The girl nodded again.

"1 thousand paper cranes for a wish." Knowing the story helped.

". . ." The girl held up two thumbs up. A smile began to curve her lips.

"Childish beliefs." He raised an eyebrow, challenging her to disagree in her silent way.

She only smiled wider and nodded once more, very enthusiastically. As she zipped the front pocket of her violin case again, a nurse came into the room, wondering why the patient was holding a one-sided conversation with himself. The nurse, Mayumi Aiko, had wide, sympathetic eyes. The patient felt a rage grow ever so slightly at the pitiful look, but it dispersed when he saw it was directed at the girl, not him.

"Dear, your appointment is in 2-D, I'll bring you down there now." Aiko smiled warmly at the girl who nodded and stood, holding her violin case by a handle.

As Aiko left the room, with the girl in tow, the patient noticed the large bloodstain on her shirt. He mentally shivered, what could have caused that much blood? The girl glanced back into the room, though not at the patient.

At the clipboard that held all his information, current sickness included, although she merely searched for one thing.

She supposed 'Yukimura Seiichi' wasn't too bad of a name.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 **Yay, I updated. Even though I was supposed to work on my other stories.**

 ***Cranes: 1**

 **I will try to remember to put in at the author's note in every chapter the number of cranes made.**


	3. Helpful Strangers, Juice, & Jobs

How… weak of me. I fainted from blood loss soon about… 4 seconds after stepping into room 2-D. That was… interesting…

I woke in the same room, now laying on the cot. Rolling over, I found no blood on the sheets and multiple small, weird, tight, _familiar_ sensations across my back. I suppose somebody's stitched the scar back up.

At least I didn't have to feel the pain… Perhaps I was given a drug? That would explain my dizziness…

"Oh, you're up. My name's Aiko, as you could probably see from my nametag, and I'm a nurse here. You just need to stay here for a few more minutes so a doctor can come by and make sure you're alright to go." A woman looking around her early twenties popped her head in my room, a kind smile on her face and pity in her eyes.

She knows.

Oh well, I don't think hospital staff count, and they shouldn't be able to spread it outside, right? Client confidentiality and all that sh*jazz.

I began folding another paper crane after retying my hair. Why did I decide to do this, making a thousand origami creations for a stranger? I don't even know myself, but… Something about him is just so… magnetic. And it feels as if he will play an important part in the future.

I guess I'll always be weird like this.

And there's absolutely no harm in helping and hoping and folding some colorful paper cranes.

Along with tying up my hair, it's getting quite bothersome falling into my eyes…

* * *

The mute girl entered room 3-B with quiet steps. The patient was asleep, a very different image from the first time she saw him. And heard him. Either way, the girl didn't want to wake him.

She smiled and placed three more cranes beside the first. Then she sat down upon the chair once more, silently… observing him. She supposed that was nice enough of a word.

A sketchbook was taken out of the girl's violin case, her hands moving slowly to limit any noise. She supposed the pencil from her notepad would do, it was a lucky thing she remembered to sharpen it yesterday night.

A rounded face that ended in a slightly sharper chin. Hair falling in waves, parted in the middle, ending past his ears, yet not quite reaching his shoulders. A bit above his chin is where she would put it. His nose ended in a gentle point, a ski-slope kind of curve to it. His eyelashes were long, perhaps even longer than some girls.

All in all, it was as if he were the perfect model. When he wasn't yelling of course. She wondered how he would react if he found out she had drawn him? Perhaps not well at all, best to not show him in the end.

* * *

I wonder how worried the others are…

Most likely only Ryoma notices I'm gone. This must be one of those times he hates that I don't have a phone. I should probably call him to let him know I'm not dead, kidnapped, or… that again. But it's alright, I'm fine as I am now.

Although, it is getting quite dark out. There are clouds rolling in, and I should start on my way back. I slid my sketchbook with a simple sketch of the hospital patient back into my violin case, into the front pocket. I retied my pencil to my notepad for 'speaking' purposes.

". . ." I'm still confused about something though. How is it that this… I glanced at the clipboard at the end of his bed… 14 year old boy is so… goddess like? Not god like for certain, more of a goddess like because of his feminine features. Heck, he'd beat out some beauty queens I've seen on TV before. And he's only three years older than little ole me. It's truly strange how DNA and genes work sometimes.

I stood, accidentally scraping my chair against the floor in the process. With a slight wince, I prayed I didn't interrupt his slumber. He looks too peaceful, like… a puppy. Or maybe a panda… No, I think kitten? Perhaps he reminds me of a blue-jay, singing and screeching and then sleeping sweetly with a head tucked beneath a wing? Whichever animal, he's very cute. Very, very cute. The adorable kind of cute with his pretty face and sweet silence.

How cute of him.

* * *

"Ah, I'm sorry, are you alright?" Arms reached out to steady me as I bumped into what felt like a wall. My mind registered the warm hands on my shoulders as a safe action, not a threat as there had been an apologetic voice accompanying it.

I looked up, as it happens to be everybody I meet must be taller than the 149cm me. He had no hair, and there was a (beautiful) chocolate color upon his skin, which I think is more his ethnicity than a tan, and kind, warm eyes. There was worry in his dark brown orbs, and I realized it was for the mute girl. Me. I suppose it wasn't so much a wall as him I had walked into…

I shrugged, not knowing how else to answer his question. When somebody asks if you are alright, do you answer yes or no in general? Because there is a large scar on my back, blood staining my clothes, and I am very mentally scarred. But I wasn't hurt in the least when I bumped into him.

So confusing…

"Well, I'm sorry either way. I'll try to be more careful from now on, I don't want to cause an accident because I was rushing too fast. If you don't mind, could you please tell me where room 3-B is? If you know." He smiled at me, arms releasing me from their gentle grip that stopped me from face-planting in his chest earlier.

I blinked at him, eyes scanning over him and making hasty thoughts on who/what he was like. He couldn't be much older than me, yet he carries an air of… what is it? It's like an air of responsibility with him, something close to Tezuka's. No, it's closer to Oishi's aura. It's like he's unintentionally saying he'll take care of you, or at least something along those lines.

And room 3-B? I wonder if he knows Seiichi personally, unlike me of course.

I nodded, lips quirking into a brief smirk before fading back to normal. I turned on my heel, gesturing for him to follow me.

And he did, like a little puppy.

How… trusting of him.

What an idiot…

* * *

To say Jackal Kuwahara was frightened was a lie. Trickery in the speech and lies on the tongue. False words strung up by the thinnest thread of honesty ready to snap.

After all, Kuwahara was the one who had been dragged to the movies by Marui Bunta, his doubles partner, and Kirihara Akaya, his kouhai. Of course he was the one who's wallet suffered from the expenses of the snacks his teammates enjoyed. And of course the two would drag Kuwahara to watch a horror movie.

It all started with a beautiful ravenette girl, her hair falling in wavy locks to her mid-back, leading the group of teens, who played as the protagonists, away into the dark, unattended corridors of the starch white building they later discovered was an abandoned mental institute.

Death and terror filled the middle.

It all ended with only one survivor at the end, crying to the police, spilling fumbled tales of bloody gore, and having herself become locked up in a straightjacket and a room with only padding, her crazed eyes promising to continue the earlier ravenette's legacy.

It was all quite understandable when Kuwahara got freaked out by the large amount of blood staining the younger girl's shirt, what used to be a light green matching her sleeves now a dark mess of scarlet streaked with brown along her spine, slowly spreading outwards. The fact that the girl's hair was pulled into a looping bun, some strands having escaped what he identified as a simple generic rubber band with the tips of her ink black hair reaching past mid-back, swaying and curling inwards at the ends where it lay near her waist added to that feeling of dread curled in his stomach, especially with the hair color matching that of the killer from the movie. In her left hand, she held a case smaller than his for his rackets, so he concluded it might have been an instrument, which wasn't _that_ scary.

But it was mainly the huge bloodstain that freaked out the half-Brazilian.

"S-So what's your name? I-I'm Jackal Kuwahara." Kuwahara asked and stated, a nervousness tinting his voice.

How glad the girl was to have watched the same horror movie in this moment in which she felt bored.

There wasn't a sound as her footsteps stopped, she had taught herself how to walk without noise as a child, which helped in her other, _first_ household. With slow, deliberate movements, her head turned to gaze at Kuwahara, an eerie grin stretching her face, her eyes opening to their fullest size, stretching and showing more white than pupil at the moment.

Kuwahara's eyes grew wider. He wondered if he was in a nightmare.

". . ." She didn't speak as she placed a finger on her lips, eyes flashing and glimmering in the flourescent lighting. The grin never dropped, even as Kuwahara began backing away.

The creepy smile quickly dropped as her facial feature shifted back to its regular blank expression. Sighing lightly through her nose, a hand lifted, finger pointing at the door besides her.

Eyes the color of black coffee shifted, following the path of the finger and landing on a dull turquoise metal plate screwed into the white walls, reading off the label 3-B in white paint to match everything else. The older male turned to thank the girl, despite what a scare she had given him, but found nobody else standing in the hallway with him. He shivered, the silence deafening in the lonely corridor, not even thinking to look behind him where a raven haired girl walked towards the stairs at the other end.

He completely missed her amused smile.

* * *

"Where were you this time?" A bored voice asked as a can of Ponta was placed on my desk.

". . ." I looked up to Ryoma with annoyed eyes. He shrugged, taking a swig from his _grape_ Ponta, almost making me miss that infuriating smirk.

"They ran out of the ones you liked." Was his simple explanation for the chili pepper Ponta in front of me.

". . ." I shook my head with closed eyes, exhaling a deep breath. Why did Ponta in flavors of chili pepper even exist? Who would actually drink these things willingly? I don't mind spicy things, but this is pure torture.

"Saaa… It's nice to see you're back now Suzume-chan. How are you feeling?" A calm voice interrupted my mental rant. I turned my head to find Shusuke and his calm smile.

". . ." I shrugged, closing the book I was reading. Sign Languages International, but I was focusing on ASL, American sign language. I figured it would be what I needed to use the most if Ryoma was going to go back to the good ol' U.S. of A. one day, me tagging along like usual.

"Saaa… Well, if you're done here Ryoma, Suzume-chan, Ryuzaki-sensei wants to talk to you both."

'Hope she doesn't expect me to talk back.' I wrote with a smirk and half-lid eyes.

". . . Hurry up." Ryoma said, turning and beginning to walk out the door of the empty classroom after reading my words.

I rolled my eyes at his back. After making sure I had everything including my self-help book and notepad, I stood and followed after Shusuke. That wasn't for very long, as Shusuke soon slowed his pace to walk alongside me.

"Saaa… Suzume-chan, I know you've said that you didn't want your… condition to be known by many, but how many others at our school actually know of it?" His voice was gentle, and nothing that sounded persuasive was mixed in his words. "It's understandable if you don't wish to share.

". . ." I sighed, tilting my head to the side. In response to him, I merely shrugged. I don't know how many sensei are here, and besides, after what happened in class, it wouldn't be that strange for others to have discovered one way or another.

We walked in short silence the rest of the way. I didn't mind, I was used to it. Shusuke seemed to be fairly comfortable with it as well. Perhaps he spends time in the same room as another who doesn't like speaking as well? Or somebody who doesn't speak to him specifically?

I mouthed 'thanks' upon arrival and shoved the can of… 'juice' into his hands. At least I got rid of it. Ignoring Shusuke's sweatdrop and confused 'Saaa…', I went straight over to Sumire Ryuzaki.

"15 laps around the courts for everybody!- Oh, Suzume, I wanted to talk to you about something." I nodded and sat next to her with bored eyes.

"Well, this may not turn out the way I hope, but would you be willing to be somewhat of a manager for the team? There seems to be a… gap between our newest freshman ace and the rest of the team, especially since he's bumped Inui off regulars, but you seem like you're able to interact well with both sides, so you'll serve well for a bridge. Bad teamwork leads to a bad performance on the courts. You'll also help as a medic, because Kami knows these boys can get into terrible situations." She rambled on, but my mind blanked a few words into the smaller details. I pulled out my notepad.

'Sure, from when to when?'

It did sound interesting, and I had nothing else to do. Joining an actual club without Ryoma meant I had to socialize, or at least something resembling that.

"It's great that you've agreed, but I need to ask, do you know anything about the game? As a part-time manager, you have to understand the rules among other stuff." Well, at least she wasn't rude about it. How funny that I was the one who always, and still from time to time, gives pointers to Ryoma. I think I'm qualified enough.

'Yeah, I know the rules.' I placed my notepad down and stood up as Ryoma came up to us, panting from the laps.

". . . Su… Suzume, where's the… water?" He looked half-dead. Maybe it was the time limits for the laps with the threat of… Inui Juice? Whatever that was.

I pressed his bottle into his hand and picked up his towel as he took a long drink. He wiped his lips with a sleeve before taking the towel from me, putting the water down on the bench.

"Here, hold on to this for a moment." He mumbled, pulling his cap over my eyes. "Oh, and I found out what hurt you after the accident." His muffled voice came from underneath his towel.

". . .?" I tilted my head, the cap to following over to a side, showing me a view of Ryoma draping his towel around his shoulders from my one eye view. His cap still fell over my other eye when I wore it, along with half of my face.

"Yeah, there was a hair clip that was found after you left. Or a bobby pin. Can't remember, but either way, want to tell me why there was blood on it?"

". . ." A sheepish, lopsided smile curved my lips as I shrugged. My brown eyes turned into horizontal half-moons, like Shusuke's.

"Suzume." His voice was now sharp.

I dropped my shrug, eyes now at a side glance to outside the fence where people were laying on the ground, weird stuff foaming out of their mouths. I poked my tongue out at Ryoma, knowing it'd piss him off.

"Suzume." He groaned. I snuck a look at him to see him dragging a hand down his face. A spark suddenly lit up his golden hazel eyes.

"How about we play a match? I win, you talk. You win and… What do you want?" He paused upon seeing me flash my palm at him, meaning I was going to sign. We had gotten pretty decent in Japanese Sign Language.

I don't understand why we bothered with these childish formalities, he knew he could always ask me for a match, seldom did I disagree. But maybe it was a matter of his pride. I was certain he already knew the reason for the blood. However, I'll continue playing masquerade with him for now.

/Last orange Ponta in fridge and that old origami paper under your bed you never did fold with./

"Alright, it's a deal." He smirked, arrogance in his eyes.

I smirked back, raising my hands up again.

/You know you're going to lose./

"Try me."

/No need to, you've never won before anyways./

"First time for everything."

/Yeah, I break records for how fast I can beat you all the time./

"It'll be different this time-"

"Excuse me, but do you mind telling me what's going on?" Sumire cut in.

". . ." I pointed at Ryoma, not playing the blame game or anything, just because I couldn't explain it without a few sheets of paper to detail back into history and old tennis scores.

"Made made dane." Ryoma sucks at explaining though. Whoops, forgot about that.

Sumire grew an irk mark before sighing deeply and turning to me.

"Suzume, if you wouldn't mind going over to speak- Oh, uh…" She faltered, and it took me a moment to figure out about what. It took me 4 seconds to be precise.

I waved my hand in the air, as if I could wave away the lingering words too. Ryoma looked at me from the corner of his eye, watching my expression. I didn't do anything to signify distress, annoyance, or amusement.

"Right, Inui and Tezuka will help you understand your duties. As for you," Sumire looked at Ryoma with an intense glare, anger radiating from her. "30 laps around the courts for slacking off, go!"

I covered my smirk as he grumbled, dragging his feet as he left to his consequences. He shot me a flat glare, a spark of anger smoldering in his golden hazel eyes that always took my breath away. With a silent laugh only heard by me in my head, I tossed him his cap he had left on my head.

I waved as I walked over to Tezuka and Inui. Tezuka simply nodded at me, yet Inui awkwardly waved back, fingers a bit stiff, motions quite jerky. Like a robot without oiled fingers.

Cute. Strange, adorkable, unexpected, and pretty cute.

I don't think he'll be too bad.

"You are Aria Suzume, I presume. Age eleven, height is 146 cm, weight is 42 kg. You are in third year classes, having had skipped three years of education. You have a relationship with Echizen Ryoma, although not yet identified and-"

'When's he going to stop? Nice to see you again too.' I held up my notepad to Tezuka.

"Suzume-san, you can store your violin in the locker room if you wish. You've gone to the hospital?" He had a hint of tiredness in his voice, and I blame Ryoma for it. Why? Well, Ryoma's a very stress-inducing person to be around, unless you're used to it like me. I decided not to make things harder for him, so I simply nodded.

After leaving my precious instrument with Ryoma's tennis gear, I returned to the two older males. I shifted from foot to foot until I was noticed again.

"Aria-san, your first job will be to record notes on everybody's performances, meaning the regulars. Note down when they get tired, show signs of fatigue, how long they last in stamina practice, and other things like that. I calculated the chances that you would not have anything to write on or record time with, so I planned ahead and got you a notebook and a stopwatch." Inui handed me a sky blue notebook along with two pencils and a simple silver stopwatch, the generic kind you could find in most sport shops.

I blinked at the items shoved into my hands before nodding once to show I understood. I walked away to sit in a corner of the courts, making sure my skirt covered everything, although with my shorts, I didn't need to worry that much. I wasn't worried about the dust. It sang no harm to me.

This was a rather peaceful experience. Of course, it must have been forgotten by my new 'higher-ups' that I still didn't know everybody's name.

This is going to turn out well.

* * *

 **School. That is all I have to say at this point.**


End file.
